


New Tradition

by Ladelle



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Family Feels, Holidays, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 13:20:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9326588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladelle/pseuds/Ladelle
Summary: Tim brings Jason holiday leftovers, hoping this master plan is one of his better ones.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on Thanksgiving as a little fluffy piece but I’ve been battling my writing style lately so it took a while for me to get around to editing. Shout out to @cinnamonskull for challenging me to write something with a bit less angst and a little more fluff.

It was a sprawling fog of inner-city damp, one that whispered against curbs and clung to cars as they drifted idly through a soundless night. With one hand in his coat pocket and the other holding tight to a bag of leftovers, Tim watched as delicate drafts of escaped sewer heat spilled upwards, pouring out and into the world in smoky rings. Beneath, rounded sewer grates rattled.

Even though Tim’s breath formed clouds, he felt warm. The world felt, oddly, right. Layered under a heavy coat and two sweaters was his heavy-beating heart, thrumming with a happiness he couldn’t quite describe. It was pure contentment, like walking on air, like realizing the stars were aligned and life was good and feeling an almost giddy need to live in this moment before the magic of it disappeared.

It wasn’t the first time he’d been to Roy’s, but it was always difficult finding the right apartment. Tim hated admitting that everything looked the same on this side of town, especially buildings tipped drowsily against each other, born decades earlier and slinking with age.

It was luck that Jason called, and Tim felt the bubbliness of his own words when he answered with, “Heya. It’s Thanksgiving and I’m lost.”

On the other end, Jason puffed a laugh. “You have dinner. You’re not allowed to be lost.”

“Guess you should come find me then, huh?”

There was a pause on the other end; Tim heard Roy in the background, excitedly asking if Tim was on his way – it was nearly ten, and Tim imagined they were all half-starved, waiting for Tim to show up, food-in-arms.

“You’ve been here, like, five times,” Jason said, and Tim could hear the way his voice strained; it was easy to imagine that he was folded over, tugging on his boots. Tim smiled against his phone, his mood inciting him to play along, to pinch his lips and say, “Maybe I just want a minute alone with you,” and then, “without Kori and Roy exchanging The Look.”

That earned a real laugh, one that sent Tim’s heart climbing.

“I happen to like The Look,” Jason replied, and then he asked, “Did you have a good night?”

Tim’s sneakers caught gravel and he blinked against a sudden flare of headlights in the distance; a car turning onto the road, the glare too bright in the barely-lit dark. It felt like betrayal to say yes; Jason had a way of making casual inquiries about things that really mattered, and Tim knew this was one of them.

“I’m _having_ a good night,” he said, and added, “I’m on my way to you, after all.”

Jason made a sound half caught between a snort and mired disbelief; Tim imagined he was rolling his eyes and could hear the way his footsteps echoed – Jason was probably on his way down the apartment stairwell, caught in a reverberating, linoleum-lined descent.

“It was fun,” Tim decided to say, shrugging. He resisted the urge to mention that it would be even more fun if Jason decided to come, that he and Dick would be excellent buffers to any awkwardness. It was a moot point, however. Tim was smart enough to know some things would never change and that Jason wouldn’t be caught dead at a Wayne family event.   
  
For a small moment, Tim felt nervous. He blamed the chill that raced his spine on a cold draft that swept by.

“Did Dick make those stupid lemon tarts?” Jason questioned, and Tim blew out a long breath, watching a cloud unfurl in front of his face.

“Uneaten, as usual.”

When Jason sighed, it was theatrical exasperation. From the corner of Tim’s eyes, he saw movement; from between two towering apartment buildings, Jason’s familiar figure stalked into the light, one hand pocketed in his leather jacket, jeans torn at the knees.

Still on the phone, Tim stated, “I think you missed the memo. It’s cold out, Jay.”

“So warm me up,” came an easy reply, half-alive over the line and half-erupted in a spill of breath, clouded in cold air as Jason drew nearer and reached out to cup his fingers against the nape of Tim’s neck.

It was a habit, Tim pushing up, trying to meet Jason’s height – their lips met and warm air feathered Tim’s cheeks, the contrast to the cold so abrupt that he felt goosebumps come to life on his arms. Jason pulled back, looking fantastically daring as he offered, in a conspiratorial whisper, “I hate to break it to you, but Roy and Kori can probably still see us. You know. Windows.”

Tim pressed a finger to Jason’s chest and prodded him backwards, fracturing the space between them with relative ease. “As long as I can’t see them staring.”

“Can’t really blame them,” Jason bent his head, closing the gap between them in order to get one more kiss in, a simple brushing of lips that left too much to Tim’s imagination. “I can’t help but stare at you sometimes, too.”

The words broke the spell, and Tim sputtered a laugh, ducking around Jason with an easy turn, thumbing off his phone with a nominal shake of his head. From behind, he heard Jason’s boots fall against the pavement, and tossed look over his shoulder when Jason called out, “Too cheesy?”

“ _Way._ ” Tim delivered Jason a knowing glance, unusually struck by how Jason appeared now that Tim was actually _looking._ Dark crescents under his eyes, days-old stubble lining his jaw – lines at that ghosted the corners of his lips, the product of either too many grins or and equal amount of frowns.

“Are _you_ having a good night?” Tim found himself asking, genuinely curious as the bag of Tupperware containers bumped against his leg. He watched Jason’s gaze drift and decided to turn his attention forward – the last thing he wanted was to give himself away; as good at he was at schooling his expression, Jason was twice as practiced at seeing through him.

“It’s been a perfectly uneventful day,” Jason said, though Tim caught the slight edge to his tone. It was amazing, Tim thought, how easy it was for Jason to be bored. Tim wished he had even an hour of free time these days, but that was another thing that Tim couldn’t help but admire: Jason’s constant need to be moving, to be alive.

It took Tim a moment to realize that Jason had taken a few quick steps to catch up to him, and was now holding open the lobby door. Tim slipped beneath his arm, and wasn’t surprised when a gust of warm air didn’t greet him once inside.

It wasn’t that part of town.

“Thanks,” Tim said, pausing in front of the elevator, which bore an ‘out of order’ sign. He laughed. “It’s a good thing that Roy lives on the third floor,” he commented before flashing a grin Jason’s way. “I bet you both could fix it.”

Swooping past, Jason snagged the bag from Tim’s hand and cleared his throat. “Nah.”

Taking the stairs in twos, Jason’s pace picked up, and Tim found himself jogging to keep up, eyes on the food that Jason had taken. He thought about gravy spilling, of sweet potatoes mixing with cranberry sauce, and wasn’t entirely surprised when Jason stole another kiss when they reached the third floor landing.

“Hey,” Jason said. “Thanks for coming over.”

For a moment, Tim wondered if it was worthwhile to change his mind, to undo everything he’d already set into motion. It was a fleeting feeling; Tim, with all of his strategy, knew that it was probably too late. So he smiled and took a deep breath and held Jason’s gaze like his life depended on it.

“As if I wouldn’t have,” he stated. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m kind of grateful to have you in my life.”

“Now that, Timbo, is too cheesy.”

Tim’s smile split wider and he navigated his way past Jason, feeling sarcasm well as he called, “I know you’re there Roy.”

From down the hall, the archer in question fell forward, his movements exaggerated as he tossed his arms out questionably. “How does he do that?” he asked.

“He’s Tim Drake,” Jason answered easily. “He probably knows what color socks you’re wearing under those hideous slippers.”

They were more like boots and Tim threw out, “Red.”

Roy’s eyes went wide and he braced himself against the wall in order to lift his leg and double check, looking absolutely perplexed as he demanded, “How could you possibly know that?”

Jason held out the bag, shaking it in front of Roy in order to get his attention. “Everything you wear is red, Roy.”

Roy frowned and Tim shrugged as he slipped past him and into the apartment. “Or I’m just all knowing.”

In an effort to tease, Jason pushed Tim lightly – an action that caused Tim to glance back, lips pressed into a grin. Roy followed behind them, eyes dancing to Tim’s just briefly before saying, “My man, Kori stole my jacket and went to get that cider we were talking about.”

Tim took the opportunity to snake his fingers around the plastic bag and made his way to the kitchen, feeling his cheeks go rosy as his body adjusted to the temperature of the apartment. Roy was funny like that – he always kept the heat cranked; Jason had complained about it more than once, even though he didn’t live here, he just stole the couch when he was too tired to hoof it to one of his safe houses.

“Why didn’t you guys ask me to get it? I was already outside.” Jason asked.

Roy shrugged and Tim glanced up as he unloaded the bag, pulling out Tupperware containers and arranging them carefully. He watched Roy’s expression, trying to read for himself that things were going according to plan. Roy had never been a good liar, and Jason had a glare that could threaten the truth out of you.

When Roy looked unsure of how to answer, Tim offered a distraction by calling, “Hey Jay, are you staying here tonight?”

The question did its job; it drew Jason’s attention sideways, and Tim marveled at the way Jason’s eyes narrowed playfully. It had been at least a week since they’d spent the night together, and he could see Jason’s lips quirk, as if reading between the lines of what Tim had asked.

“Totally not what I meant,” Tim laughed, though maybe it was partly a lie. He wanted to ask if Jason would come to his place, after - but he’d realized he’d probably have to wait until after to ask. “Just working out my plan for the evening.”

Jason leaned forward, dropping to rest his elbows onto the countertop that separated them. Tim could see Roy wandering the living room behind him, phone in hand, texting all while tossing Tim dubious looks.

“I thought _I_ was your plan for the night,” Jason exaggerated a pout, puffing his lower lip.

At that, Tim laughed. “Not here, you’re not,” he stated, giving him a knowing look. One time he had spent the night, and he and Jason had been forced to use the fold-out couch. Even though they hadn’t done anything, the springs groaned and whined under every movement, and Tim could still remember Roy’s groggy voice shouting, from the bedroom, _“Take it easy, my guys!”_

“What, don’t like Roy’s couch?” Jason joked and under his breath he murmured, _“Squeaky, squeaky.”_

“Shut _up_.” Wrapping slender fingers around a tupperware container, Tim lifted it in threat, eyes wide, darting to Roy to ensure he hadn’t heard. He was still preoccupied with his phone, which left Tim to say, “The couch is what led to _The Look.”_

“You’re cute when you act shy.” Jason settled his chin onto the palms of his hands, trying to hide a smirk behind his fingers. Tim lifted the container higher and Jason spilled laughter, holding up his hands in an effort to surrender.

As Tim worked on extracting turkey and ham, he said, “You know I really like you, right?”

“ _No way,_ ” Jason feigned a gasp whilst reaching across the table to snag a dollop of mashed potato. “How much is ‘really like’?”

Tim dug through Roy’s drawers, searching for a spoon big enough to begin scooping stuffing onto plates, and then went about locating the actual plates themselves.

“You know how, sometimes…” Tim’s words wandered as pulled out an entire stack of plates and licked his lips, catching Roy give the sign - finally - a thumbs-up. “You know how sometimes I really want a burger from Peg’s Diner, but you make me eat some chicken and asparagus bake instead, because it’s ‘what I need’?”

Jason, frowning, stretched his arm forward again, only to be whapped by Tim’s spoon when he tried to steal a fingerful of gravy. “Uh, yeah, and you _love_ my chicken asparagus bake,” he stated, faking offense.

“I do,” Tim agreed, settling back to stand a bit straighter. “And sometimes I think we need things we don’t think we want, and we just have to trust the people that love us. Because sometimes they’ll give us what they know we need, even if it’s not necessarily something we think we want.”

At that, Jason’s eyes flickered up and Tim couldn’t help but chew on his upper lip, his heart stumbling over itself like some spooked animal.

“Tim,” Jason said, calmly,  with all the seriousness that existed in the world. “What did you do?”

It was Roy that pulled open the long window at the far end of the living room, one that overlooked a dark alley with climbing, rickety, mostly-rusted staircases. He looked embarrassed, and probably felt as awkward as Tim did. Even though they’d both worked together to plan this, they knew Jason better than anyone, and it was a 50/50 shot that he’d give them both the silent treatment when all was said and done.

 _“Please say you didn’t –”_ Jason started, but he stopped when he realized they _had_ , and he was left staring, like a deer caught in headlights, as a flurry of people came crawling through the window, the sound of boots on the fire escape clanging loud, echoing in the night. First Dick, with an emboldened grin, then Damian, whose eyes danced around the minimalistic apartment with malcontent – then Stephanie, her cheeks rosy and hair tied high. Alfred followed, for heaven’s sake, looking displaced as his Oxfords met shagged carpet. Cassie came after, looking quietly bemused.

The apartment was too small, but Tim watched everyone crowd in – and he waited for it, waited for Jason to turn a glare onto him, to give him a look that said why and how dare all at the same time – but instead, all Jason did was snort.

“What? B couldn’t make it?”

Kori was a work of ethereal light as she drifted in, her hair moving as if the world was made of water and she simply existed to tread it. It was Dick that held out a hand for her – such a gentleman, helping her to land, and coincidentally, she was the one to who chose to reply.

“Bruce is here,” she said, her words airy. “Down below. You’re both wearing the same face.”

“Laser eyes,” Stephanie commented, glancing to Tim as she came further into the apartment, apparently unafraid of Jason or anything he might have to say. “Good thing he’s no Super or we’d all be barbecued.”

It was Dick that seemed unphased by any drama from the event – in fact, he clapped his hands and followed Stephanie’s lead, drifting to the kitchen. Like always, his personality was a magnet, and the mere act of him moving seemed to inspire others.

“You brought the food, right Timmy?”

“Holding it,” Tim said, lifting his hands to prove a point. This time, Jason did turn to look at him, and Tim, still chewing his lip, set down the food – stepped out of the way, as Alfred and Dick slid into the apartment’s tiny kitchen instead, and drifted out to meet Jason where he stood.

Conversation had already started, the heady buzz of life taking over the space. It was all warmth and activity – pouring laughter erasing any awkwardness that may have been left to fester otherwise.

Tim found a place close to Jason and took a deep breath, motioning for Jason to lean down just a little in order to hear him over the crowd.

Jason’s eyes hardened, a bit like he was debating it, but his lips simply pursed and he offered Tim his ear.

“I know you,” Tim said, feeling oddly nervous, like he was peeling away layers of an old painting, revealing it’s secrets to a world that may or not be ready to see. His breath felt hot and Tim realized he was still bundled in his coat, toasting in the heat of Roy’s apartment. “I know you think that…that you’re alone sometimes, that you were once part of something special, and that now…”

It was hard to articulate, which was strange. Tim was a master with words, but this _meant_ something, and he felt the overwhelming urge not to screw anything up more than he may have already.

“I knew that you’d never come to Thanksgiving with me, that you’ll probably never set foot in the manor again. I’m okay with that. But I also know that you want to be part of something special, something bigger than the day-to-day, something bigger than us, even.”

Jason tensed, and Tim rubbed his lips together, pushing onto his toes to give Jason a soft kiss on the cheek. “I kind of…just wanted to prove to you that you already are.”

There was nothing left to say aside from that, and so Tim settled back down, heart racing. His hands felt clammy and he felt dizzy on anxiety, hoping that Jason understood but also afraid to look at him, because he didn’t want Jason to be upset.

In truth, he had done all of this to start something; to create a new beginning, to gently pull Jason closer to the happiness Tim was sure he wanted, one that existed in family.

When Jason’s fingers slid through Tim’s hair, it caught him by surprise. He missed Jason’s expression as the other slipped past him, guests parting without comment as he made slow steps towards the window. Tim could see Jason’s knuckles go white gripping the ledge and watched as he ducked his head under the raised glass, his top half exposed to the autumn chill.

“What are you waiting for, old man?”

From beside him, Dick’s hand fell over Tim’s shoulder and squeezed, and Tim swallowed. The world shifted on its axis, and when Jason turned back to face him, he saw Jason mouth, _you owe me._

Tim nodded readily and mouthed back, _I love you._

It wasn’t something Tim had said yet, and the surprise was evident in Jason’s expression. His lips parted; he looked at a loss. Tim felt red climb to his ears until he forced himself to look away.

From the kitchen, Alfred’s voice could barely be heard over the commotion. “Master Damian, I have found you a lemon tart.”

Damian came running.

When Bruce entered, there was no dramatic pause; the room was light and warmth, and he and Jason held eyes for the briefest moment before each nodded. They probably wouldn’t talk, and that was okay.

Tim was busy enough staring at the ground that he didn’t miss the fingers that found the zipper to his coat, and he let Jason tug it down, unzipping it, freeing him from the cocoon he hadn’t quite shed.

“Stay a while,” Jason said, and added, seriously, “and protect me. You know I’m not good at things like this.”

Tim shrugged off the coat just before looping it over his arms. “What are you talking about? You’re great at small talk.”

Jason leaned forward, lip brushing Tim’s cheek. “I love you, too.” Tim felt the drowsy buzz of airlessness drive the breath from his lungs, and caught Jason’s eyes as he pulled back.

Jason said, “But please don’t ever do this again.”

“Scouts honor,” Tim said.

Jason didn’t notice that his fingers were crossed behind his back.


End file.
